Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Vars had to shake his head to get his imagination in check.
Jake sped up toward the group of bikers gathered in the snow-covered front yard and joined them as soon as he dismounted the motorcycle. Vars was still too far to hear what Jake was saying, but play time would come later. He needed to focus on meeting his new brothers instead. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he wanted to put down his roots here and call this place home. He’d been in a motorcycle club before, but it hadn’t been a one-percenter MC, and it was full of homophobes on top of it. Young and stupid, he’d accepted that for a few years. This? This could be the beginning of something very different. This was a club with a president who openly had a male lover. Vars would surely find it cozy here.
He raised his hand in greeting as he pulled down the scarf, and all the men gathered acknowledged him with nods or similar gestures. The two standing first in line were surely the most important people within the club. The prez, Beast, he immediately recognized by his collection of burn scars and tattoos inked all over his face, the other was Knight, the new vice president, whom Vars had briefly seen during the man’s recent visit at Mr. Magpie’s. They hadn’t really spoken back then, but it was difficult to forget someone with a presence so big it could rival Mr. Magpie’s.
Knight gave him a quick smile, and pointed at Jake, who was already rushing off somewhere yet still glanced over his shoulder at Vars. The message was loud and clear. Magpie would be the club’s priority, and Vars had no problem sucking that up.
He followed Jake along the side of the building, which looked far less impressive than the colonial facade at the front. Here, it was straight lines devoid of decoration and many windows. Like an old hospital, which was fitting considering that it was exactly what the property used to be before the Kings took over.
Jake led the way to a series of huge roll-up gates worthy of a big city’s fire rescue headquarters. They entered a huge garage filled with all kinds of vehicles, all tidily organized so that each could be driven out when needed.
Jake parked his bike in an empty spot at the front, next to a row of shiny motorcycles. Most of them were Harleys, but there was the odd sports bike as well.
“You’ll be parking in the back,” Jake said and attached his helmet to the bike.
Vars fought off a smirk at the tiny piece of aggression Jake allowed himself. “Where?”
“I’ll show you.” Jake started walking farther into the huge garage that made Vars imagine whole rows of ambulances that might have been parked here when the place had still been a medical facility.
As he moved along, new lamps came on, illuminating the space and showing off yet more cars. Jake didn’t care to look back, strutting as if he owned the place, which was all the more amusing since he hadn’t earned his member patch yet.
“How long have you been prospecting?” Vars asked, watching the plump ass sway in front of him.
Jake glanced over his shoulder once they reached an empty spot in a dusty corner, right next to a cluster of boxes containing tools and spare parts. “I’ll be getting patched in soon if that’s what you’re asking. So I guess I can give you some pointers.”
“Pointers?” Vast asked, chewing his bottom lip in the same way he wanted to chew on Jake’s buttocks.
“You know, how to be a good prospect. You will be responsible for a big chunk of work that needs to be done around the club. The responsibility is not to be taken lightly.” In Jake’s mouth the words sounded as if he was imitating middle-management speak, because he didn’t know how to actually give instructions. “You always do as you’re told by the members. You don’t question them, and you don’t complain.”
Vars stared back at Jake. “You should always question what you’re being told. Not doing so is an accident waiting to happen.”
Jake crossed his arms with a smile, now standing somewhat taller. “That’s what my grandma used to say. Me? I trust the patches. They know what they’re doing, they know what they want from me, and I do it. Sometimes, they might have reasons they can’t reveal, so it’s not my, or your, place to question them. Understood?”
Vars shrugged. “No. I don’t think so. You can’t just blindly follow someone else’s judgment. What if they ordered you to suck all their dicks? Would you drop to your knees and deliver?”
The way Jake stalled made Vars pay attention to his body language. Jake curled his arms on his chest yet more tightly, his pale fingers digging into the leather of the jacket. “Um… well… yeah. You gotta do as you’re told. No shame in that!” The last sentence was more of a bark, as if Jake wanted to convince himself not Vars.